Blood Red Redemption
by Broken Music Box
Summary: I ghost up behind you. This is no time to startle you.' PG- 13 just in case. (Warning: Self Inflicted Injury) One-shot.


Title: Blood Red Redemption  
  
Author: Broken Music Box  
  
Rating: PG- 13  
  
Summery: 'I ghost up behind you. This is no time to startle you. To deep a cut and it's all gone to hell.'  
  
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Blood Red Redemption.  
  
Why do I feel I must pray for you? For your soul, for a short immortality? Immortals don't feel pain. They don't cry. They don't bleed. But you bleed. I know you do. I see the spot of blood on your sleeve when no one else does. I feel I should pray for you. For your redemption. I should pray for my redemption, for forgiveness for what I have done. Yet every night, I find myself praying for you. That you won't cut your self anymore. I pray, and I don't even believe in God.  
  
I feel your longing for the grey oblivion you've found yourself so near to every time you worked yourself to exhaustion. You don't know you carry it with you everywhere you go, seeping out every time you are still. You think it is something that awaits you every time you try to sleep. You're wrong. I should know. You'd think that it might taint those around you if you stayed near them for too long, but it doesn't. They carry on, blinding rays of light to all those who are dwellers of our shadows, not noticing your slowly poisonous depression.  
  
You mask your crimson with smiles and reassuring goodness. I mask mine with biting sarcasm and blatant malice. It works. No one notices. Except one. And he is doing everything he can to throw us together, hoping we'll find some comfort in each other before we flicker and fade, putting out our own flame forever. Albus Dumbledore is just like his trinkets; having only good intentions that can never be seen through the web he weaves around them. He is a spider. The description is not flattering, but accurate. How he would chuckle if he was ever privy to my thoughts.  
  
I've almost let you know I know what you are going through so many times. The one incident that stands out was the time you stumbled into class late, face pale as ivory, a rag around your wrist. You over did it. It was one of your first times- you learnt soon enough how much blood to let. I wanted to shout, to rage, to tell you that nothing is worth dying for. That the pain is sweet while it lasts, but if you die in the process, it taints you forever. I wanted to shake you, to hold you close and heal the wound so you wouldn't pass out. But I didn't. My self-control is my armour. Yours is you intelligence. You have no idea how it scares most, how they fear making fools of themselves, so they shrink from your crimson light.  
  
As my footsteps fall on the voiceless corridors, my thoughts wander. I am hurting just as much as you. Your familiar died. Crookshanks, the ginger cat. He came to share my lap some evenings, did you know? As if he knew that I might be able to help you someday. My familiar died. A silver owl who was blessed with the name Lithium. I have a feeling she found you in the same gesture as Crookshanks found me, as if they were outlets to our pain. I hope it worked. I hope they both rest in peace. My silver owl and your golden-ginger cat. I know it worked.  
  
The steps are steep. How long has it been since the last time I was up here? Years. Now I have my own chambers in the dungeons and privacy, where I can spill my pain in silence. No one says a word. The house elves have been told to simply clean it up and be quiet, keeping the secret. They all do. But you, even though you have your Head Girl quarters, you still come here. The house elves you wished to free are bound to no such oath with you. And I must admit, this place has a strange beauty. The darkness, the stone, the cold and the stars.  
  
A waxing moon. Striking, even in the state I am in. And you are there as well. Leaning against the window ledge mutely, the gleam of your blade shining. I ghost up behind you. This is no time to startle you. To deep a cut and it's all gone to hell. But your blade hasn't even broken the skin yet. It just glides back and forth across your wrist, leaving no mark on the pale white scars that already grace your wrist. I stalk up, and slowly seise both your wrist and the knife. You don't fight me. You knew I was there. It's impossible for one of us to not know. You know I'd never hurt you.  
  
Gently, I press down with the knife onto your wrist. Up springs a thread thin trail of blood. I feel you give a phantom of a smile and lean back into me. Deeper this time, I cut. The blood drips to the floor. I stop, and offer the knife and my wrist to you. You observe impassively as I put the knife into your hand and wait.  
  
A few seconds. A minute. Then the coldness of the blade against skin, the sweet pain and the release. My blood flows more quickly. You cut deeper than me. Perhaps you sensed that my pain was deeper than yours. I know you are still half afraid of what you do to your self. You pocket the blade and watch me silently, wondering. What now? My handkerchief binds your wound for the moment. A healing would come later. Not much later, but later. Not now.  
  
You turn for the steps but pause, and glance back. I move to stand beside you. If one of us died on the steps, the other would stay, and not leave until we were found. If one died, the other would live. Twice the pain. But that's what we wanted, right? You take my hand and we begin the decent. Let them say what they wanted to. I had found my love. She understood me completely. And I understood her.  
  
"Thank you, Hermione."  
  
Silence. Overwhelming panic seises me, and I squeeze your hand. You squeeze back, and smile. I can't see your face, but I know it's stunning, as pale as snow and with a smile blessing your lips. My heart eases, not worried that you do not speak. Sometime it is like this.  
  
"Thank you, Severus."  
  
I know you fear isn't of failing. It's of falling. I promise I won't let you fall. I'll let you fly, and make sure you never fall. Would you like that? I'll be here forever for you. You just have to say the word. I love you. Nothing will ever change that. 


End file.
